


Happy Anniversary

by lynnearlington



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnearlington/pseuds/lynnearlington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the prompt: brittany and santana go on some tunnel of love type thing, only 12 years old. first kiss fic idk? </p>
<p>(except i butchered it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> posted from tumblr

Santana prides herself on being original, unique, unrepeatable. She likes it. It makes her noticeable and memorable and she just doesn’t want to be one of the rest. That’s not good enough for her. 

So when her ten year marriage anniversary to her high school sweetheart rolls around she knows she can’t do the normal thing. The normal thing would be chocolate and roses, maybe some candles, sexy lingerie, a hotel room, champagne, all of these things. It’s what she’s done the last few years, and it just won’t fly for the big ten year marker.

No, she has to be original. 

She’s already done way too many unoriginal things in her life. Married the girl she fell for in high school, moved into a nice three bedroom house with a fence and a backyard, got a dog, a stable job, a mortgage. Ugh. Brittany’s even mentioned the dreaded ‘B’ word once or twice over dinner. She needs some sort of variety in her life, some sort cool factor, and she wants Brittany to have it too. 

Which is why she’s here now, tugging Brittany towards a wire fence and pulling a bolt clipper out of her heavy black bag. 

“What are we doing?” 

“Breaking in,” Santana responds immediately, cutting them a hole in the fence. “That should be obvious.” 

“I don’t want to get arrested on my anniversary, Santana. That would be sad.” 

“You’re not getting arrested,” Santana laughs, “Come on you know me. Do I ever get in trouble?” 

Brittany looks unconvinced, but Santana just rolls her eyes and tugs her through the little opening. 

“Why are we here?” 

“Stop with the twenty questions,” Santana orders. 

“I asked you like two questions not twenty.” 

Santana ignores her as she pulls them through the closed carnival, tugging her coat closer against the harsh November air. “We couldn’t have gotten married in the summer…when it’s warm,” Santana mumbles. 

“What?” Brittany asks. 

“Nothing.” 

They get to their destination and Brittany laughs as she looks up at the darkened neon sign, the words  _Tunnel of Love_  looking a little worse for wear, but still readable. 

“I love this ride.” 

“I know,” Santana says with a soft smile, cutting through the lock on the door. 

They walk into the darkened tunnel, the white swan boats just barely visible ahead of them, and Santana pulls a flash light out of her bag, flooding the place with light. 

“This way,” she says, grabbing Brittany with her other hand and tugging her along side the ride on the maintenance path. 

“Should we be in here?” 

“No,” Santana responds immediately, laughing. “That’s why we are.” 

“I haven’t been in here since…” Brittany trails off, realization seeming to coat her tone. 

“We were twelve,” Santana finishes for her, nodding. They get to the spot she was heading and stop. Letting go of Brittany’s hand, Santana drops her bag on the ground and pulls out a bottle of cheap wine and two glasses. She sets her flashlight on the ground, propping it up so the light illuminates their small section of the tunnel. 

“You’re cute,” Brittany says suddenly. 

“Shut up.” 

“Our first kiss was here.” 

“I know,” Santana says uncorking the wine and pouring a glass. 

“That’s cute.” 

“Stop saying that.” 

“Well it is.” 

She hands Brittany a glass, shooting her an unamused look and holding out her own wine in a toast. “Happy ten years,” she says, hitting her glass against Brittany’s. 

Brittany hums affirmatively and takes a sip, making a face. 

Santana laughs. “Yeah it still tastes as bad as it did when we were fifteen.” 

“I wonder if it will get us just as drunk,” Brittany comments, nose wrinkling. 

“Is that a challenge? Because I’ve got a handle of tequila in here as well.” 

“Really?”   
  
Santana shrugs. “I’m classy like that.”

“You are,” Brittany says with a nod and a laugh that shoots heat into Santana’s gut. Even after all these years Santana is still so hopelessly affected by this girl.  

“Well,” Brittany says after a moment, look expectant, she throws back more of the bad tasting wine, grimacing again. 

“Well what?” Santana asks, finishing her own glass.

“Well what do we do now?” 

“Uh…this is sort of as far as my plan goes.” 

“Oh,” Brittany says, “okay.” 

Most women would probably get a little ticked at this point, Santana thinks. Most women do not enjoy being taken to an abandoned carnival, forced to engage in activities of questionable safety and legality and drink wine that tastes more like off vinegar than anything else. 

Then again, Brittany’s not most women. She just shrugs, smiles genuinely and kisses Santana on the cheek. “I love you, happy anniversary.” 

Santana turns her head, captures Brittany’s lips in a deep kiss, and smirks at the way Brittany’s whole body gravitates towards her. 

“Hey Britt,” she says softly between kisses. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thanks for marrying me.” 

“No problem,” Brittany says coyly, nose wrinkling in mirth. 

They smile at each other for a moment, both under a swirl of love and affection that’s been around since they first kissed in this same spot (albiet on a white plastic swan boat) when they were kids. 

Then, the spell is broken with a loud, “Who’s down there?”. 

“Shit,” Santana explains, jumping away from Brittany and staring wide-eyed down the tunnel at a small ray of light heading their way. 

“Told you,” Brittany says lowly. “We’re totally getting arrested.” 

“This place is  _abandoned_ why would anyone be out patrolling over here?” Santana says in a harsh whisper.

“I can hear you!” The voice exclaims. “Show yourself. You’re trespassing on private property.” 

“Come on let’s get out of here.” 

Quickly, Santana grabs their stuff, leaving the bottle of wine and glasses on the ground, and tugging Brittany in the opposite direction of the oncoming cop. Footsteps trail behind them sounding like they’re moving quicker and quicker. 

She’s almost sure they’re going to make their escape flawlessly, as they did hundreds of times in high school, but as soon as she finds the exit, bursting out into the park, they walk right into the high beams of a parked cop car, a shadowy figure walking towards them. 

“Stop right there!” It yells. 

Santana considers booking it, considers running the opposite direction like she would have when she was seventeen, but Brittany’s hand keeps her still. 

“I’d rather not spend my anniversary running a marathon. I already worked out today.” Brittany laughs quietly. 

“I thought you didn’t want to spend it getting arrested either,” Santana says, watching the figure walk towards him. Brittany shrugs. 

The cop that had been trailing them comes barreling out of the door behind them, flashlight pointed in their direction. ”It’s over, ladies,” he says.

They’re both handcuffed, her bag confiscated as they’re told their rights, and this is so not the way she wanted to get Brittany into handcuffs tonight. Glowering, she gets into the back seat of the cop car to ride to the station. 

“Sorry,” she says softly to Brittany. 

Brittany lolls her head to the side, resting it against the back of her seat. “For what?” 

“Getting you arrested on our anniversary. I was just trying to do something original.” 

“We used to break into places all the time as kids,” Brittany says, and Santana’s eyes whip to the startled cop in the front seat, laughing at his wide eyed glance back to them. 

“She’s kidding,” she reassures him, turning back to Brittany with a pointed look. 

“I’m just saying,” Brittany says in a whisper, smiling. 

“I know that,” Santana says quietly, glancing at the cop to make sure they can’t be overheard. “I just wanted to do something different for our anniversary. We usually go to a restaurant, get a hotel room, I don’t know…I was trying to be original,” she repeats. 

Brittany thinks about that for a moment. “Well we’ve never gotten arrested on our anniversary before, that’s a new one.” 

“Thanks, Britt,” Santana says with an eye roll. “You’re making me feel much better over here.” 

Brittany leans closer, puts her lips up against Santana’s ear and says, “We’ve never done it in a jail before…” 

It sends a shiver down Santana’s spine. She laughs. 

“It’d be totally hot,” Brittany continues, pressing a kiss to Santana’s ear, then down her neck. She eyes the cops in the front seat, the driver watching the road studiously while his partner talks into his radio. She turns back to her wife. 

“I’m so in love with you,” she whispers, smiling. 

“Yeah me too.” 

Santana kisses her swiftly on the lips. 

“So you’re up for jail sex?” Brittany says when they break apart. 

Santana affects her best  _duh_  expression and laughs. “Like I’d ever say no to that.” 

“Happy anniversary.” 

“Happy anniversary,” Santana repeats, laughing. 


End file.
